


dancing on thin ice

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e08 The Scientist, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work doesn't call Oliver away, and he finally gets to spend some time with Thea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dancing on thin ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scathach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scathach/gifts).



Oliver isn't happy. 

Thea wishes she didn't notice things like this. If she were less observant, maybe she would be enjoying herself, maybe she also wouldn't notice every time Roy lies to her. 

She asks the bartender for a strawberry daiquiri, and surveys the room. The few guests they have are all old friends, those that are in it for the long haul. The ones that aren't deterred by divorce or murder or temporary relocation, the ones that sometimes wanted favors. 

Thea hates them all. They're nothing more than vultures, and she makes sure to thank the bartender for her drink. 

It's alcoholic, and she figures he must be new. He's young, but not pretty enough. She wants a diversion, a selfish one. She wants to get lost in something nice, and not think about how terrible fate is. She wants to forget. 

Most of their galas had enough people that Thea could pick a lover or two, twirl around the dance floor, and bring them up to the balcony. There's only one person here she really wants though, and she's not supposed to be thinking about him. 

"Speedy? You alright there?" 

She smiles, and tries not to lie, "Yeah... it's just different." 

"I know, I'm-"

"It's not your fault Oliver," she says before he can finish.

He nods, and she knows he doesn't believe it. 

"They're cute," she says gesturing to his secretary and a tall brunette.

He nods again, and she figures she ought to pull him out of this funk. Only one of the Queen children should be morose, and he's far too obvious about it. 

"Dance with me." 

"You know how I feel about dancing." 

"Well," Thea says lightly, her voice dropping to a whisper, "the Woodrow twins are headed this way, and I'd rather not end up in another conversation about their _lovely_ portfolios." 

Oliver sweeps her onto the floor before the dreaded twins can come any closer, and they waltz around the room. A few more couples join them- some waltzing, others simply swaying, and it feels fuller than before- like the party wasn't a total disaster. 

"Way to go Speedy," he murmurs in her ear, and she's sharply aware of who she's dancing with. One of his hands is on the small of her back, skin on skin, far warmer than it should be. 

They dance the night away, trading stories of work. They bid everyone goodnight with their mother, and she thanks them both before retiring. 

"So Ollie, what's on the agenda for tonight?" 

He checks his phone before offering her a small smile, "I'm free." 

"Excellent," Thea says, snatching a half finished bottle of red from behind the bar, "we haven't had a real conversation in ages." 

They end up in Thea's room, and Oliver grabs another opened bottle along with two glasses. She refrains from raising an eyebrow, but Oliver still comments. 

"You used to be able to handle your alcohol, you should learn again." 

"Okay," she grants, sitting cross-legged on her bed. 

Oliver joins her, mimicking her pose, "Besides, this bottle is worth a few hundred and the rest would have been tossed." 

"So frugal," Thea jokes, clinking their glasses. 

Thea instinctively swallows more than she ought, trying not to hear the whispers in the back of her mind. 

"Easy," Oliver says softly, "smaller sips." 

"Right, sorry I-"

Oliver interrupts, "It's fine. We have more." 

The flirtatious words are out before she can stop them, "Why, Mr. Queen, are you trying to get me drunk?" 

Oliver just rolls his eyes though, "That would defeat the purpose of you drinking _without_ getting drunk." 

Thea pouts, "I'm not sure I like this game." 

"And what would you prefer?" 

A wide yawn reminds Thea how tired she is, and how little she enjoys sipping wine slowly. "Sleep." 

"Of course," Oliver says, standing up immediately. 

"No," Thea says, sliding her glass on the table, "stay? It's cold."

Oliver's face is wooden, and for a moment, she thinks he's going to leave. But then, he places his glass on the bureau. He strips until he's down to his boxers and undershirt, and Thea reminds herself to breathe. 

He climbs onto the bed, on the right side, the one he always used when she was younger and had nightmares. He's giving her an amused look, and she can't figure it out. 

"You planning on sleeping in the pretty dress?" 

"Right," Thea mutters, "close your eyes."

She doesn't bother checking if he does or not, slipping out of the dress without getting up or ripping anything successfully. The jewelry is next, and then her bra, leaving her in the navy silk panties. Thea flicks off the lights, and curls on her side facing away. 

"Thanks, I'm set." 

There's a sharp inhale, but Oliver says nothing about it, only moving closer to spoon her, and wrap his arm around her stomach. 

"Good night Speedy." 

"Night Ollie," Thea whispers, warm and safe.


End file.
